


Stew

by Tamsydoodles



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamsydoodles/pseuds/Tamsydoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve years as a shadow had to have been hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stew

Roy stirred the bowl of stew with little appeal. It had been nearly two days since his last real meal, but the shock of the day’s events was enough to sap appetite out of nearly anybody. In any matter, Riza was not a good cook on her best day. While this was certainly better than most of the stuff back at the academy, he had begun to remember why he had valued Christmas’ bar food so much on holidays. 

She didn’t seem too interested in the meal either, content with staring at the chipped bowl so intently Roy was surprised it didn’t shatter then and there. Every few seconds she would adjust herself as if she was a teacher with a tack on the bottom of her chair, determined not to let the students have the victory of a reaction.

Her mouth opened and closed before she took a deep breath and looked down, focusing on picking the dirt out from under the fingernails instead of attempting empty conversation. Roy turned back to his stew, forcing down a few spoonfuls before pushing the bowl back. 

“Sorry,” she murmured. Her bangs fell before they were pushed back behind her ear roughly, her head turning away to avoid meeting his eyes. 

“No, it’s good,” he reassured her quickly, “I’m just not hungry.”

Riza shrugged and pushed her own bowl back, her shoulders relaxing as she gave up the facade of caring about dinner. The still-full bowls steamed gently, growing cold far before another word was spoken. The old grandfather clock in the hall chimed eight times, then nine, dutiful as always but alone and forgotten. 

“You need to see before you leave.”

Jolted out of a bleary half-sleep, Roy’s head snapped up from the pillow he had made of his arms and spent far too long trying to comprehend the sentence.

“I know you have to leave in a few days, Mr. Mustang. The sooner you see, the better,” she said. Her eyes were steady like he had always known them to be, but her voice shook and he didn’t know why. It unnerved him, worry and curiosity mounting into concern the longer he listened, the longer he looked. She did not return to her fingernails, all too aware that there were no more distractions in nonexistent dirt. 

He bit his lip, unwilling to respond. “I don’t need it.”

Riza’s hands clenched into tight fists, shoulders stiff. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, but the words that followed were low and unnatural, almost accusatory.

“I know you’re lying.”

“No, I’m _not_ ,” he said all too quickly, slamming his hands against the table a little too hard. Riza’s head whipped around, meeting his eyes with fire he had never seen before. For the past three years, he had never heard her raise her voice, never seen her anywhere near this livid. thirteen years of being a shadow had to have been hell. He had never seen her angry.

But he had never seen her happy either. 

The old oak table rattled from the force in her fists, the stew still left in the bowls splashing dangerously, threatening to spill over. She spoke through her teeth, caught somewhere between retreat and attack.

“You’ve been begging for this for two years. I know you need my father’s research, and the sooner you see it, the better.” 

“I don’t want this now!” he argued, “Your father just _died_ , for god’s sake, shouldn’t we respect his memory for a while or _something_?!”

She pursed her lips, drawing a deep, shaky breath before replying, “In case you never botehred to notice, Mr. Mustang, my father and I did not have a particularly good relationship, and his death has not rendered me incapable of rational thought. You are a young soldier and the few days of leave you managed to get is exceptional in and of itself. You won’t be able to get any more for quite a while, and I intend to be long gone by then.”

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, wringing his hands together. Surrender. 

The room fell again into silence. Riza sat frozen with her fists on the table, anger gone and and replaced with uncertainty. 

“C-come on then,” she stammered, her chair scraping against the floor as she stood up, “Best to do this in the lounge. There aren’t any windows.”

It took him a minute to stand, stomach turning with nerves. Despite her protest, the feeling that he was taking advantage of her still lingered in the back of his mind. Straightening his uniform - he hadn’t bothered to change since arriving and he was beginning to regret it - he made his way down the hall, boots heavy against the hardwood. 

Her back was toward him, covered by her jacket and hunched over in a way he wasn’t altogether unused to. 

As he stepped into the room, the jacket fell to the floor, exposing the gentle curves of her back. 

He dared a step forward, lost for words in horrified fascination as his hand rose, trembling inches over the tattoo.

“You can touch it, Mr. Mustang,” she murmured, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the floor, “I’m not sacred.”

“What did he do to you?” he said, his voice faltering halfway through, seizing in his throat and forcing the last few words in a choked whisper. He knew exactly what Berthold Hawkeye had done to his daughter, and it sickened him. To think he had admired this man, to think he had begged on his knees for a chance of being his pupil, spent two years of his life trying desperately seeking the very secrets now penned in crimson across a seventeen year old girl’s back. A lump rose in his throat and it refused to be swallowed back down.

Roy forced himself back into reality and lowered his hand, shrugging his coat off as quickly as he could to avoid any questions he knew she would ask. 

Her head snapped, surprised, as he draped the coat around her shoulders.

“You need to see,” she said, clutching the coat as tightly as she could, her resolution all but gone. A gentle hand spun her around, and another caught her back, pulling her into a tender, firm hug. 

Roy’s efforts to calm himself failed miserably, and his chest shook with each breath. Tears fell onto Riza’s cheeks, though she showed no signs of crying herself. Instead she remained frozen in shock, mouth hanging open, arms still crossed over, holding his coat like her life depended on it. 

“I’m sorry.”

It was enough. Riza too began to cry, burying her head in the scratchy wool of his uniform, unsure of whether the tears came from relief or pain.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! I suck at happy things!!
> 
> Also a present to my jiejie, snkisruiningmylife (though her tumblr seems to be glitching atm have no fear i'm probably hecking something up)
> 
> HAHA IT'S BECAUSE SHE CHANGED HER URL AGAIN WHAT A NERD
> 
> its now fullmetalshingekis now go follow her and wish her a happy two days ago birthday because i cant get shit published on time ever


End file.
